tly on my ear
As stones discharged from precipices sheer:
No sight is half so soothing to my nerves
As boulders bounding in eccentric curves.
If falling stones sufficient be not found,
Lead me where avalanches most abound.
Ye shake your heads; ye talk of home and wife,
Of babes dependent on the Father's life.
What! still reluctant? let me then make clear
The duties of the guide and mountaineer;
Mine is to order, yours is to obey--
For you are hirelings, and 'tis I who pay.
I've heard, indeed, that some old-fashioned Herren,
Who've walked with Almer, Melchior, and Perren,
Maintain that mountaineering is a pleasure,
A recreation for our hours of leisure:
'To be or not to be' perhaps may matter
To _them_, for they may have some brains to scatter;
But _we_, I trust, shall take a higher view,
And make our mountain motto 'die or do.'
"Nay, hear me out! your scruples well I know:
Trust me, not unrewarded shall ye go.
If ye succeed, much money will I give,
And mine unfaltering friendship, while ye live.
Nor only thus will I your deeds requite;
High testimonials in your books I'll write.
Thee, trusty guide, will I much eulogize
As strong and cautious, diligent and wise,
Active, unhesitating, cheerful, sure--
Nay, _almost_ equal to an Amateur!
And thou, my meekest of meek beasts of burden,
Thou too shalt have thine undisputed guerdon:
I'll do for thee the very best I can,
And sound thy praise as 'a good third-rate man.'
But if ye fail, if cannonading stones,
Or toppling ice-crag, pulverize your bones;
O happy stroke, that makes immortal heroes
Of men who, otherwise, would be but zeroes!
What tho' no Alpine horn make music drear
O'er the lone snow which furnishes your bier;
Nor Alpine maiden strew your grave with posies
Of gentian, edelweiss, and Alpine roses?
"The Alpine Muse her iciest tears shall shed,
And 'build a stone-man' o'er your honour'd head,
Chamois and bouquetins the spot shall haunt,
With eagles, choughs, and lammergeyers gaunt;
The mountain marmots, marching o'er the snow,
Their yearly pilgrimage shall ne'er forego;
Tyndall himself, in grand, prophetic tones,
Shall calculate the movement of your bones;
And your renown shall live serene, eternal,
Embalmed in pages of the Alpine Journal!"

* * * * *

By reasoning such as this, year after year,
I overcome my men's unre